


Worse Things

by mishencockles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demonic Possession, Fallen Castiel, Gen, Violence, abaddon!cas, possessed!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:35:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishencockles/pseuds/mishencockles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's blood runs cold even before Cas turns around and tired blue eyes are replaced with black.</p><p> ''Hello, boys''</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worse Things

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by: http://dizimart.tumblr.com/post/51406979457/tiny-comic-strip-for-casdasgay-made-from-our

Maybe he should've noticed the moment he stepped through the door. Maybe something about the air, the way it curled strangely in his lungs, should have tipped him off that something about this, about all of this, wasn't quite right. Maybe if he'd noticed the utter silence, the pin drop tension of a room afraid to breathe, maybe then this would have all gone differently. Maybe not.

 Dean still feels like an idiot, after, though Sam keeps telling him it's not his fault. Cas' been mopey lately, has been down in the dumps and grumpy and quiet and mean. They couldn't have known.

And Dean doesn't think it's strange when he walks in through the door and Cas' bent down head doesn't turn to face them. He's been doing that a lot, lately; ever since he dragged his ass half broken, half destroyed through the bunker, Cas didn't really look at either of them, anymore.

His eyes were always straying someplace else; up high against a sky empty of anything familiar, or down at the intricate patterns of mud staining his boots. 

Dean is used to being ignored, by now. What he's not used to is the worry, to the fact that Cas fucked up big time yet Dean knows he can't be mad at him. But he tries. Oh, he tries. It helps, because he might not know what to do with worry, or what to do with the fact that he cares about someone, on a level that should be frightening if it wasn't so pathetic; he doesn't know what to do with the fact that no matter how Cas always leaves, Dean always waits for him to come back. But he does know what to do with anger.

So dean is angry. Angry when Cas ignores him, angry when Cas talks back to him, angry because Cas is sad and it makes him sad, too. He can't even remember what he's so mad about, this time, only that the second they walk in and ''Heya, Cas'' is met by nothing but an unnatural silence, Dean feels the blistering, hot anger swell under his skin.

''Gee, Cas, so chatty today''

Sam gives him a scolding look, jaws tight in disapproval. It's a look he's seen a hundred times just this past week; a look that says _go easy on him, don’t be a dick_. A look that paints him as some kind of asshole and even though he might be, a little bit, Dean thinks Sam's being extremely partial in this melodrama.

Silence lingers and it doesn't take a genius to see Cas isn't going to reply. The anger blossoms further, digs its claws deeper into his gut. With a hand running through his hair, Dean sighs.

''You know, Cas. I'm _trying_ , okay?'' The anger threatens momentarily to give way for something else, something sticky and heavy he doesn't want to deal with. He swallows down against the lump in his throat only for it to swell back up again. ''Man, I get it, you're down in the dumps, life's tough, I _get_ that, but I gotta say you’re being a total dick about it''

Something not quite right floats through the air. It’s a small sound, a laugh, that on any other person wouldn't seem so strange, but not only is it unnatural to hear Cas laugh lately, but it doesn't even sound like a noise he could make. Playful, light, carried on an undercurrent of ill intentions.

 Dean's blood runs cold even before Cas turns around and tired blue eyes are replaced with black.

 ''Hello, boys'' He can see Cas' mouth move, can clearly hear his voice, but it doesn’t sound anything like him. ‘’I was wondering when you’d drop by’’

 Dean exchanges a rapid fire look with his brother. Judging by the look on his face, the same thoughts are going through his head. Dean quickly turns back to face the intruder; he knows damn well by now that one second is all they need. 

''So which one are you?'' His voice feels rougher than usual. ''Can't be Crowley, judging by the state we left him in last time’’

The intruder smiles, and there it is again, that airy, carefree laugh. It reminds Dean briefly of a cat, smug and content in its own victory, even before the mouse has been struck down. Eyes, blue again now, but still not familiar, look them over with the same predatory glean.

'’Clever, but not clever enough'' The demon's turned in its seat, arm slung leisurely across the backrest of the couch.

Dean's eyes keep flitting around for any kind of weapon, or distraction, hand flexing for

the knife but knowing he won't use it. He should, and he can, but he won't.

Likewise, Sam's stance has widened, preparing for a sprint or a leap and Dean can't help but slowly position himself in front of him, just a little.

''How'd you even get in here? Place is rigged with devil's traps. I set most of them up myself''

The intruder pulls Cas' lips into a smile. Dean wonders if he's screaming, somewhere in there.

''It was just a matter of luring him outside. Not too hard – '' Dean feels his blood sour when it speaks in a perfect mimicry of his own voice. ''—all you have to do is give the right incentive and you can catch just about anything''

''Get _out_ of him''

It shakes its head, chuckling under its breath. Dean can't fight the crawling sense of _wrong_ that creeps over him. It feels filthy, to have that thing in Cas' skin; behind his bones, moving his tendons with dirty hands.

''Really, boys, I'm insulted''

The thing rises and Dean feels his muscles tense; hears Sam shift, minutely, to his side. The intruder saunters, slowly, confidently, across the hardwood; peering at the shelves and the ornaments and many things of the bunker in half curiosity, half boredom. It comes to a stop just a few steps away from them. When it stares straight into Dean's eyes, he suddenly feels stupid.

 ''You’ve gotta be kidding me''

 Sam looks between the two of them, frowning in confusion. ''You know who it is?''

 Dean swallows once more but the lump just grows. The anger in him pulsates into a stronger, filthier kind of heat as it quickly turns from pettiness to pure, outright hatred.

 ''Abaddon''

Cas' lips pull open once more, revealing coffee stained teeth.

''Miss me?''

'' _Aba_ ddon?'' Sam splutters, staring at Dean to make sure, the look on his face nearly comical.

''What the hell do you want with him?''

Abaddon shrugs one shoulder and it looks wrong, wrong, _wrong_ ; perverse somehow and Dean itches with the need to remove her. He remembers the feeling of his stomach sinking, when Meg had taken Sam for a joyride, remembers the bile that rose back then just as it rises now.

''Cas'' he says, slowly, deliberately. ''We're gonna get her out of there, but you have to fight her as hard as you can, you hear?''

Abaddon's lips tremble with the laugh rolling through her mouth.

''Oh, he'll fight. In fact, he's been fighting since the moment I arrived.'' Lightly, she shakes her head. ''I guess you can take the angel out of the warrior, but…''

Dean forgets himself in a second of anger, a swell of rage that lunges him forward when hard won instincts would tell him not to. Instincts that know he should just get the knife, have it buried hilt deep in Cas' neck. Even if it won’t work, it’s a plan, the _only_ plan, but Dean can’t hear it over the blood in his veins.

''Dean!'' Sam makes half a movement to stop him, half a movement to help, but he doesn't get far.

Abaddon's hand, _Cas_ ' hand, claws at his jacket and before Dean has time to even blink, he's been thrown back against a wall. The shelf above him shudders, books and trinkets raining down over him. The world tilts for a moment, flickering like a dying lamp. When his vision finally clears it’s just in time to witness Sam making another, just as stupid, just as impulsive, leap towards the demon. She doesn't even have to touch him to fling him against the very same wall.

''Sam!''

Dean scrambles to his feet, hands clutching at his brother who's stuck as if superglued to the wall, feet kicking furiously against it.

''Not so fast''

Dean barely turns around before he's connecting with the wall again, this time remaining there, hung up and mounted like a pelt. He kicks anyway, despite knowing it’s useless. Knowing that any moment now she could crush every bone in his body and he won't have a chance in Hell of stopping her. Any minute now, they could all be dead.

''Let me down, you black eyed son of a bitch!''

Cas’ mouth tilts. ''Not when you scream so nicely’’

She leans in close and he can smell the hand lotion Cas uses. Can smell the cheap gas station 2-in-1 shampoo and shower gel, and its aching familiarity is cut through by that sharp otherness, the demon stench like that of a jacket, during the first second of coming indoors after being outside in winter.

''You should hear him'' She says, lips brushing his ear. ''He's a real screamer''

''What do you _want_?'' Sam snaps.

''What do I want?'' Even when she inches towards him, Sam's jaws remain set, a rigidity of steel and resolve in his body as he braces himself for a blow and pushes against his restraints. ''What do I _want_?'' She laughs again, but it's less airy now, weighed down with anger and hunger. ''What I _want_ is to tear your flesh from your pretty little bones; I want to strip you of your skin in ribbons. I want to look into your eyes as I tear your brother's heart from his chest, and I want you to look at me and see your friend''

Sam takes a deep breath and wastes no further time, before a familiar chant slips from his mouth. ‘’Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus –‘’

It’s over just as soon as it begins. A flick of the wrist and his mouth closes on itself, his jaws snapping shut; suddenly, and without regard for his own will. Dean snarls, face tight, breaths huffed out in angry little bursts.

''Look, we've been doing this gig for a long time'' He says. ''Possessing our friend? Not very original. In fact, I'd say it's a regular Monday''

''Oh, I know, I've heard all about you'' She steps back to look at them both, the smugness nearly dripping off her face. ''But I'm not a crossroads demon, and I'm no _lackey_ ''

Dean really wishes he could pray, this time. At least some way of communicating with Cas, _Castiel_ , behind and beneath all the layers of skin and black smoke. But all he can do now is glare and kick and scream until he breaks free, hoping that Cas will do the same.

''Look, my brother's _been_ possessed by bigger names than you. I know Cas can hear me and I know he can fight you, so why don’t we just cut this short?''

Abaddon throws her hands up with a loose shrug. ''Go ahead'' She says. ''I like the way he tickles''

'' _Cas_! Cas, you gotta listen to me, I know she's tough but you've beaten worse’’

Abaddon rolls her eyes. ''Please, do you really _think_ that’ll – ''

Something changes with her face. It's a small twitch, barely even noticeable, until it happens again. Her whole torso flinches, shudders on a hiccup that won't let itself be choked down.

''That's right, buddy'' Dean carries on, voice louder, more secure now, because those little twitches can't be anybody else. ''Just like that!''

Abaddon's look of surprise quickly twists into annoyance.

''He can huff and puff all he wants but he's only going to hurt himself in the end''

Dean faces her bared teeth, her burning, narrowed eyes, and he smiles. The twitches of anger in her clenching fists are overcome by another twitch of Cas; knowing Cas is fighting is enough for Dean to keep on fighting, too. 

''I wouldn't bet against him. Doesn't look like much but he's squared off with the Devil, once''

''And from what I hear he was utterly _pulverized_ '' She sneers and the lack of her amusement is so intensely satisfying. Another twitch runs through her, shaking the whole of her body. Dean's smile quickly slips off his face when she flicks him to the floor.

Sam's voice is muffled as it rings through his ears. Dean knows he's going to feel more than just a little sore in the morning, if he survives this in the first place. Concussed, if he’s lucky. Comatose, more likely.

''You think you're so clever, don’t you?''

He hears the steps of Cas' bare feet coming towards him, a faint echo through the ringing in his ears. Dean looks up to see her towering above him, face split into a grin eerily similar to another time. Next to a bloodied wall by an old reservoir that he still has dreams about, sometimes.

Whatever Dean was planning to say is hindered by the pain as she squashes his hand with Cas’ heel. Dean grits his teeth to keep any sounds of pain from escaping. He knows what she wants and he'll be damned if he gives it to her, just like that.

''This ends here. I can't have you two _maggots_ running around; I have things to do, people to dissect, Hell to run, and _you_ –'' Cas' foot connects with Dean's side, rolling him over on his back, eyes closing in pain. ''—will _not_ get in the way''

The foot strikes again, again and again; each time harder than the last. Dean feels the pulsating thud of pain, throbbing through his flesh as it softens beneath Cas' sole, mushed with the resistance of a peach. He hears Cas' joints crack, hears Sam screaming, but it all seems far away.

She grabs him by the hair, twisting his face up to meet her. ''You should feel him, Dean'' She chuckles, low and breathy, putrid in the guise of Cas' voice. ''There's so much _hatred_ here. So much guilt and self-loathing''

She inhales through her nose like breathing fine wine, eyes closing in momentary delight as her grin stretches wider.

''Screw you'' Dean spits. Abaddon laughs.

''He is really fond of you. Can't say I blame him, with those pretty eyes of yours'' Cas' face turns thoughtful. ''I think I'll kill you last. Save it for dessert''

Dean knows he'll hate himself in the morning but headbutts her anyway. She flinches back, nose bleeding, and he only feels a little bad about it. Cas can take it, he reminds himself. Cas can take damn well near anything.

''You little _worm_ '' She moves to strike him, but the movement is aborted by another heavy flinch.

She stares at her arm like a phantom limb, and at this point it might as well be; with a will of its own, refusing to move forward while unable to move back. She grabs at it, claws at the wrist, red marks quickly turning crimson as blood catches under Cas' nail. But the arm won’t move.

''No!''

''Keep it up, Cas!'' Dean spits the blood out of his mouth. Scrambling to his feet, the whole room swims around him, but Dean grits his teeth and gets up. He's had hangovers worse than this. He'll live. Hell, he has to.

Abaddon screams, petulant; the child that's been scolded, hand held back by its mother and with nothing to do about it except throw a tantrum. The struggle isn't enough to break her, but it's enough to distract her, long enough for her hold on Sam to slip. He falls to the floor with a heavy thud.

Their eyes meet for a brief moment of agreement, before Sam's gaze flickers over to the other side of the room. There’s a devil's trap there, Dean realizes. Painted in glow in the dark paint sometime around when they moved in. He glances over at the power switch and wonders how much time he needs to flick it.

''I'm going to break every last bone in your body and pick your flesh from my teeth with the _splinters_ ''

Abaddon's face twists in fury that wants to devour, that wants to _destroy_ and if he listens close enough, he can almost hear it boil through her veins.

Dean scoffs. ''Yeah? I think you're all talk, lady''

He doesn't let his eyes wander, doesn't let himself look at Sam. Any attention brought to him will ruin everything. As long as Abaddon's focus is on him, and him alone, they may survive this. All of them. Not unscathed, but intact.

''You really think you can win this, don't you?'' She laughs. ''It would be endearing if it wasn't so disgusting''

Dean ignores her. ''Cas, you gotta hang in there. You can fight her, I know you can! Come on man, we’ve done this before!''

Her playful amusement turns into anger as quickly as the blackening of a summer sky. Her voice is the thunder that rolls in and he can feel the electricity of her fury hum in the air.

''You really believe that, don't you? You believe that this pathetic, wounded little creature can fight _me_? That he’ll save you? I was a knight before he'd even received his first orders. I was among the first to fall with Lucifer! Even as a seraph he wouldn't have stood a chance. And now?'' She scoffs. ''He's nothing but the burned out remains. Road kill. Why do you think he was so easy to possess?''

''I'm not talking to you'' Dean growls, circling her, backing slowly towards the back of the room.

She follows, wrapped in her own self-confidence, pulled along on the gentle current of his goading.

''He's angry. He's lost. He's so _confused,_ like a little bird with all its bones broken. And I entered him like a _breath_ ''

Dean's heart thuds faster, faster and faster still, like a fist that pounds against his ribs. He tells himself he's not listening to her; after all, demons lie. Even when they're honest they obscure the truth, twist their words until they’re barely recognizable. He's been down this block before and he won’t fall for it. He can’t afford to.

''Cas, listen to me, I don't care that you messed up, okay? It doesn't matter. But I need you to go with me on this one, alright?''

She closes in with quicker strides now. Just a few short steps and Dean expects her to throw him against the wall again, mind-whammy him into the floor. He’s only a little surprised when she uses Cas’ fist to punch him in the face.

Dean staggers under the force, nearly falls but catches himself, his body such an errant mix of pain he can't even pinpoint its exact location anymore.

''You did the best you could'' He says and he doesn't know if it gets harder to push the words out, if his voice is struggling over them because he really means it; because a petulant part of him still _wants_ to hold it against him. Or maybe it's just the swelling of his cheek, the teeth wiggling precariously in his mouth. It doesn't matter. He has to carry on. ''You always do, I know that. Me and Sam, we both know that''

''Oh, please, you haven't for _given_ him'' She punches him again, hard in the ribs and he can almost hear one crack inside him. ''All those times he left you? All the times he lied to you? Betrayed you or just didn't _trust_ you? Oh, that must've hurt. I wonder, which one of you did it hurt the most?''

Dean nearly gags on a gob of blood and bile, but he spits it out, staggering backwards. He only needs a few more inches, just a few more steps now, and the mess will be over.

''He hurt your brother and you forgave him. He destroyed his home, and still you let him back into yours?'' She laughs again, a disbelief to the sound as if she can't really wrap her mind around the stupidity, the naïve forgiveness that he carries. Dean doesn't exactly blame her. ''He tries so hard to fix things. It's _endearing_. And then, in the end, all he does is make things worse. Doesn’t that sound incredibly familiar?''

Dean almost lunges forward; the split second of satisfaction, of punching her in the face, it would _almost_ be worth it. He keeps backing.

''Cas, don't listen to her. She’s a demon, demon’s _lie_. You know that as well as I do''

''You don't forgive him'' she spits, face scrunching up, soured, like Dean has rotted it. ''Not really. He knows you don't, _I_ know you don't and I'm not in _your_ head''

''Maybe I don't'' He stares her in the eyes, tired old eyes that don't belong to her. ''But I will. And your pasty ass is going straight back to the hole you crawled out of. _Sam!_ ''

Abaddon turns around, but it's too late. Sam's already hit the switch and the room plunges into darkness, illuminated by the ghostly fluorescence of the trap beneath their feet. Dean huffs a breath, grinning, as she stares down at the symbols surrounding her. Something in his gut sinks when she looks back up with a smile.

''You think I really didn't know about this? I'm _inside_ his head. I know everything about this rabbit hole''

She lifts her foot to reveal a piece of the circle that's no longer there. In the dark he can see the glowing remnants of the paint that stain her nails.

''Oh, you poor thing'' She doesn’t laugh, but a short trickle of the sound carries through her voice. ''You really believed that would work''

There’s no warning before she lashes out at him again. Her face twisted in anger, eyes flashing black for just the briefest of moments. She punches him again, again and again and Dean almost wants to laugh because it's the damn crypt all over again. He'd broken through to Cas then too, he could do it again; except then it'd just been _Cas_ , tethered but alone. This time he's fighting the puppeteer.

Eventually Dean decides to hell with subtlety and goes in for a punch of his own. There's something so deeply satisfying about the crack of Cas' nose, giving way underneath his knuckles; something that goes beyond Abaddon, far back into something that's been brewing in him for the past two years. Dean hits him again, despite that it won't have any effect on the demon. It's a superfluous gesture but the adrenaline that flares through him tells him to continue.

''You stupid son of a _bitch_ '' And all this time Dean's been angry, but he's never been _angry_ , not in this pure, naked way. He always held back, always reshaped it into something acceptable. Something manageable. Anger because he'd been betrayed, because he'd been let down. But never anger because he'd been _hurt_ ; because he hadn't, despite everything, expected to be hurt.

''When will you learn, you stupid, naïve, stuck up _idiot_?''

Abaddon sways back on her feet with the next punch; she catches the next, but is surprised by the kick that hits the bend of her knees.

''If you'd just have _talked_ to me, like I fucking _asked_ you to, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now!'' Dean breathes, haggard, heavy, impossible breathing as he dives after her. ''I could've helped you. I _would've_ helped you! All you had to do was ask me, Cas. Why is that so God damn hard?''

He keeps punching him. Momentarily forgetting about Abaddon's presence, forgetting that she's thriving underneath Cas' bruised and broken skin. All he sees is red, is wrong and bad and he just wants it to bleed out of him. Transfer it, somehow, into a pain that Cas can understand.

''You don't have to do everything on your own, you _shouldn't_ because you just screw things up''

Dean stops his fist in midair, let's it hover, trembling, like the breaths stuttering in his throat and the drum beats behind his lungs. Cas' face is a mess, a palette of red and blue and swelling, and Dean is torn between satisfaction and utter self-hatred.

''You want to fix things?'' Dean laughs, a small, hollow sound tainted with bitterness. But with it he can feel something release inside him. Can feel it let go and float out. He feels lighter, somehow. ''Fix _this_ ''

Cas' mouth smiles, the crack in his lip opening wider and blood trickling down his chin. Dean can't even feel the pain of his own body behind the wave of euphoria, adrenaline carrying him further than he should logically be able to go.

''That's _very_ sweet'' Abaddon sneers ''But you’re boring me''

Dean hears the air swish past him as he hits the wall again, this time not sliding back down. She saunters towards him, but her steps are less taunting, more predatory now. She wipes some blood from her mouth, eyes narrow and annoyed. Next thing he knows her hand is around his throat and her breath is in his ear.

''He's not fighting me, anymore. And do you want to know why?''

Dean squirms and kicks, struggles but the hand around his throat is inhumanly strong. Her breath is hot against his ear and even now it still smells like the coffee Cas had this morning.

''He knows there is no point. He doesn't deserve to be here.'' She shrugs one shoulder. ''Too bad the knife is useless. Slitting my throat would have been a good idea, if it worked.''

''Let him go''

She chuckles. Dean's really growing tired of that sound. ‘’Not even if you begged me''

Dean takes one deep, steady breath, before the plunge. His hand clutches at Cas' shoulder, the fabric of a sun faded old shirt, hideous and worn but _Cas_ , in a way, bunching up underneath his fingers. When Dean stares into his eyes he hopes someone else but the demon will look back.

''Buddy, I know you're tired. Hell, I'm tired, too. But I need you to do this one thing for me, just one little thing.'' She arches her brows, unsure if she should be amused, confused or a bit of both. ''C'mon, Cas, you can do this! Once more with feeling’’

Abaddon frowns at him, Cas' eyes  scrunching together so similarly to the way he'd looked at Dean when he tried to tell him why Colombian beans are better than Brazilian ones; similar to when Dean tried to explain the plot of the fourth Season of Dr. Sexy and failing spectacularly. Similar, but only as a pale imitation made by a beast wearing his skin.

The look is wiped off her face when she stumbles, as if her knees decided not to participate anymore, and the wide eyed look of horror is almost enough to make all of this worth it. '' _No_ ''

Dean takes a breath so deep it hurts, his throat freed and only the sweat of Cas' palm left as a reminder. Abaddon lifts her arm but it's slow, like working through tar and he watches her move in slow motion, the body she's in fighting against her with every last breath held within it.

''That's it, Cas, just a little more!'' Dean looks around for his brother, unheard and unseen for so long he wonders if – hopes that –he's escaped. He doesn't know if anyone who _can_ help would get here in time, but it’s better than anything he’s currently got at his disposal.

Spotting his brother he realizes Sam's been one step ahead of them all this time. Abaddon isn't moving, frozen mid movement and all it takes is a little push to get her back into the devil's trap, the tear now mended with something that looks like blood.

Through the dim dark he can see something dark trickle down Sam’s arm, can spot the small pocket knife in his hand and something quite a lot like pride swells inside him.

''What are you _doing—_ '' Abaddon hisses, spits like the mountain lion backed into its corner, twitching in an attempt to move.

''It's okay, Cas'' Dean breathes, heavily, and if he thinks one second about how tired he is he thinks he'll collapse on his feet. ''You can let go now''

The change is instant, relaxation falling over her like water, but there's no point to it. She paces and turns but the circle won't let her get out.

''I will rip your spine through your _mouth_ '' She hisses, teeth bared, no longer playful or confident or smooth. The summer storm finally broken out, spitting lightning. Dean takes that as his cue.

''Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio –''

''Stop that!'' Her eyes go wide in horror.

''— infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica –''

''I said _stop that!_ '' The low timber of Cas' voice is broken through by a shrill, high pitched screech. Dean keeps talking, keeps reciting, nearly stumbling over the words, his mouth swelling, but anger pushing him onwards.

''Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei –''

The screech gets louder, like a physical pierce through his ears and further into his skull, threatening to split it open. Dean feels the wetness of blood run down his neck. He ignores it.

''—Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo. Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem et fortitudinem plebi Suae''

She throws herself towards him, but the invisible barrier of the trap throws her back again. Despite this, she keeps trashing, slashing out with her nails as if she could claw the flesh from his bones by will alone. Dean keeps his eyes on her, glancing only momentarily at Sam, who nods back in rigid encouragement.

''Benedictus deus –''

The scream reaches nearly unbearable levels, Sam now clamping his hands down over his ears, Dean almost unable to think, let alone speak, but pressing the last words through his lips with the last of his willpower.

'' _Gloria patri_ ''

Her essence is more or less ripped out of his body. It shoots through his mouth with such force as to bring him down on his back. They watch the smoke dart through the room, movements violent and erratic, like a hornet that can't find its way home. Before the ringing has even died in his ears, she's gone.

The silence that sinks its teeth into the room is heavy, physical in its weight, pierced barely by their ragged breathing.

''Sam?'' Dean croaks, throat gone inexplicably dry. ''You okay?''

Sam exhales through his mouth, maybe just because he can.

''Yeah. Gag's off. Cut isn't deep. You look like you've had better days, though''

Dean's scoff gets tangled up in a groan. Now when he's no longer in immediate danger all pain comes rushing from all areas of his body at once. Moving seems like some sort of fictional concept now when all his bones are trembling.

''Cas?'' He breathes, low, maybe afraid of the answer.

When the only response is more heavy silence, his heart drops damn well near his knees. He exchanges a swift look with Sam, who looks just as worried and afflicted by the nausea eating away at Dean's stomach.

''Cas? You with me?''

Slowly, half out of pain induced immobility, half out of trepidation, Dean crawls closer. Cas' chest is moving with shallow breaths, short puffs that end almost before they begin. At least he's alive, but what remains, Dean isn't sure.

''Cas, c'mon, you're freakin' me out'' When he's inside the devil's trap and Cas still hasn't moved to strike him, Dean gets a little more emboldened. Just in case Abaddon's somehow still in there, waiting for his throat to be exposed before she strikes, in true Horror Movie The-Killer-Isn't-Really-Dead fashion. Sam lets his hand hover above the light switch until they're absolutely sure.

''Cas, c'mon, man –''

'' _Dean_ ''

Dean breathes again, unaware of the tightness in his chest until it finally resolves. That's Cas' voice, unmistakably, sounding rougher than normal but still him. Dean nods at Sam who flicks the lights back on.

Dean isn't entirely sure what he expects. Blood, yeah, face scrunched up in anger or, even the spine twisting, knee breaking guilt that simmers across his face; but he hadn't expected there to be tears lingering in the corners of his eyes.

Dean wasn't even sure Cas _could_ cry. Or, well, of course he could, technically, theoretically, _physically_ do it, but Dean had never seen him so beaten down; never seen him that vulnerable. Cas has, despite his failures, his shortcomings and now, ultimately, his humanity, always seemed to be unbreakable. Which is absurd, because Dean's seen him break, physically and mentally, but even now the mere idea of him crying sits heavily in his chest, twisted somewhere it doesn't quite fit.

''Cas? You okay?''

Cas doesn't look at him. When Dean tries to follow his gaze, catch it and bring it back to him, always having worked before, now he finds himself unable to. Cas' eyes keeps flitting away from him, darting back and forth in a feverish manner. His nose is a crooked, broken mess, blood having caked itself around his mouth and stubble. His lip is swelling unevenly and Dean feels guilty, now, knowing they're his doing.

''Cas, c’mon, talk to me''

But Cas doesn't say a word, doesn’t make a move except to breathe. In and out, short little bursts that sound unpracticed and clumsy. Dean looks at Sam for something, some answer or solution, but Sam looks just as lost as he feels.

Dean sighs. Just one battle after the other, he thinks, and slowly leans over, hand moving to touch Cas' shoulder again. Shoulders are safe, familiar, they're _them_ but Cas flinches away from him like he's fire.

''I'm not gonna hit you, okay?'' Dean holds his hands up in surrender, trying to look as harmless as he can. Not that there's any point because Cas still isn't looking at him and it's starting to make him nervous. ''Man, we need to get you an anti-possession tattoo. Maybe you could rock the tramp stamp, huh?''

It's meant as a joke but the nature of his voice is too hollow to carry through with it. Cas' face twitches, but it looks more like annoyance than amusement.

''Too soon?''

Cas sighs a deep, worn old sound and without a word, he's back on his feet. Dean rises quickly to steady him, as he's wobbling, and it's funny because he's been a little bit imbalanced ever since he fell, and Dean wonders sometimes if it's the added weight of being grounded. Bound into the flesh rather than squeezed between the hollows of it, or perhaps if it's the _lack_ of a weight that's no longer there. He seems drunk, most of the time; always bumping into table corners, stepping a millimeter more to the left than intended or missing a step altogether. He’ll get used to it, Dean's sure, but he might never be okay with it.

Now he sways even worse, staggering through the room. When Dean makes a move to help him, he only flinches out of reach and moves faster.

''Don't touch me''

And that's it. One gruff statement that would offend him if it hadn't sounded so tired, and before Dean can open his mouth, Cas is gone.

Dean looks at Sam again, who's got his frown back on, concerned and worried and as always, full of excuses. ''Dean, maybe we should just –''

But Dean's tired of this. Tired of Cas limping away all the time. Tired of him avoiding conflicts, of avoiding _him_ , and he's not going to let him run away and bleed in silence.

''Save it'' Dean grunts out. He doesn't mean for it to sound so harsh, but his anger is bubbling over, seeping out through every limb, every pore of his skin.

He finds Cas in his room, which he could describe as a mess and still feel generous. Clothes have been ripped out of his wardrobe; ugly ass shirts  thrown on the floor, faded jeans that don't fit him quite right strewn over bed posts; tables covered in socks in odd colours, his hands trembling as they work on stuffing as much as possible into a suitcase.

For a long moment Dean just stands in the doorway, gaping. Sam nearly bumps straight into him when he finally catches up.

''Cas, what the hell?''

''Cas, you okay?'' Sam says over Dean's head, peering into the room with a slight amount of hesitation. ''Going somewhere?''

''I’m leaving'' Cas turns around, hands slamming the suitcase shut with a snap that makes Dean jump, just a little. His eyes are half-lidded in that tired, fed up way, the look that's always made Dean feel like an ant under a magnifying glass.

''Leaving?'' Now, though, it only makes him angry. ''Where the hell do you think you’re going?''

''I don't _know_ , Dean. All I know is I can’t stay here'' He lowers his head then and adds, in a voice so hushed Dean thinks he's not meant to hear it ''It's not safe for you. _I'm_ not safe.''

Dean opens his mouth, closes it again. Feels that old damn lump rise in his throat. He doesn't even bother with swallowing it down this time.

''Cas, we'll get you a tattoo, it's fine. Happens to the best of us.''

''Yeah, Cas'' Sam smiles weakly at him. ''We've all been there''

''This isn't a joke!'' Cas' hands won't stop shaking, clutching white knuckled around the bag's handle. He sets his jaws into a stiff line, twitching. ''I could have killed you! I almost did. And it's not even the first time''

Cas scoffs, brows rising as if he isn't even surprised, anymore. Like he's come to expect this level of destruction from himself. Dean wonders if what Abaddon said hadn't been completely false, if maybe Cas is wearing down, finally, in ways Dean doesn't know how to fix.

''Cas, you're a grown ass man, you're allowed to do whatever you want, but I can't trust that if you walk out that door –'' Dean swallows. ''I know you, and chances are you're gonna do something really stupid''

''It's not your concern''

''Yeah, well, when a good friend of mine plans on leaving the only home he’s got, and that friend isn’t all right in the head, then yeah, that _is_ my concern.’’ He sighs. ‘’I _told_ you already, you're _family_. How many times do I gotta tell you that before you fucking listen?''

''Cas, it's not your fault'' Sam adds, and he sounds like he means it. ''Nobody got seriously hurt. It happens.''

''You don't get it, do you?'' Cas' voice has a little tremble to it; small and subtle but in the same manner, carrying through the hoarseness with clarity. The tremble of his voice too worn down, too heavy with hatred and guilt and frustration to fully hold. ''She was right. I try to fix things, I try to make amends and atone, but there's no end to it. It doesn't _stop_ ''

''You're trying. That’s more than most.''

''No'' He laughs, but it's not a mirthful sound. ''No, it's not. Not with the things I’ve done''

Dean rolls his eyes. ''Who _cares_?''

''Dean—'' Sam warns, but Dean ignores him, instead pushing himself deeper into the room. Closer to Cas, close enough to look into his eyes, and the relief to find him in them is immeasurable.

''So you broke Heaven. You broke _Sam_ , but I forgave you for that. Samandriel? Remember him?'' Dean thinks by the gutted look on Cas' face, he does. ''He forgave you. You broke my entire face and I _forgave_ you, Cas. Jesus, did you ever think that maybe some things _can't_ be fixed?''

''Then why am I here?'' Cas' voice gives way there, stumbles on the last syllable, and he's never seen a person look so lost before. ''Why do I keep coming back if I can't make amends? To break things further?'' He shakes his head. ''My Father is cruel but even that, _this_ , it seems excessive''

''Hey'' Dean dives after his gaze, catching it this time and refusing to let go. ''Stop. Just. Stop, Cas''

Cas look at him as if he thinks, hopes, he'll find an answer in his face. Written somewhere, among skin and bone. Dean remembers this, and it strikes him only now, caught in that strange pull between them. Dean hadn't realized how long it's been since Cas actually met his eyes.

''Just let it go'' Dean says, softly.

And Dean thinks maybe they'll always end up here. Maybe Cas will always fuck up and, maybe, he'll always forgive him. Maybe Dean just can't say no to a pair of dumb, blue eyes or maybe, because he knows, always, despite how angry or hurt or frustrated he gets, he always _knows_ that Cas only means the best for them.

''You're a dumb piece of shit'' Cas flinches at the harsh words but he doesn’t look away. ''But you're _our_ dumb piece of shit and I don't care what you think you did, or what you think you deserve. You have a place here, and we need you''

Cas opens his mouth, shakes his head, the words unable to form. The little _no_ Dean can see wavering on the edge of his tongue, doesn't fall. What comes, instead, is a sighed out word so familiar it aches. ''Dean''

''Let it go, man''

And if the air gets a little heavier, a little warmer, an uncomfortable heat that presses down on him, he ignores it. If Sam shifts uncomfortably in the doorway, Dean doesn't acknowledge it. This is exactly where they've failed before and Dean's tired of backpedaling. Just once, he'd like to get it right on the first try.

''Besides'' he says, clearing his throat. ''If you're gonna run around breaking things, better it be here where we can keep an eye on you''

Cas shakes his head with a long sigh. He looks down at his feet, but his hands have stopped trembling.

''Being human is more difficult than I anticipated'' He mumbles. Dean can’t quite be sure, but he thinks he recognizes a petulance in there. The gruff, frustrated displeasure that doesn’t convince him things are okay – or that they ever will be okay – but it assures him, if only slightly, that maybe this time he’ll stay.

''Yeah, I know'' Dean scoffs. ''It’s harder than it looks''

Cas looks up at him in a way that’s almost shy.

Dean raises his hand, but he's unsure where he wants it to go. It hovers, uncertainly, in the air before he lets it slot back against Cas’ shoulder, as easy as if the muscles remember.

''I don't know why you try so hard'' Cas sighs. He looks tired, now. ''I don’t think I’ll ever understand why you put so much faith in me. But I… Thank you, Dean''

Dean squeezes his shoulder, once, twice, then lets go.

''Yeah, well'' Dean shrugs. ''I'm kind of a dumb piece of shit, too.''


End file.
